


Make Your Move

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Brothers & Sisters, The Mentalist
Genre: Multi, Other, a fake the Rock movie that I invented, heart eyes, lots of soft sex, the softest threesome ever, three in a bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: You've had a thing for Marcus for nearly a year, but one night when he had a friend come over, you all have too many beers..
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader, Zach Wellison (Brothers and Sisters)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Make Your Move

**Author's Note:**

> I can never show my face in public again.

“Plans tonight?”

You look up from your scintillating choice of fruit juice with a label in Madarin or some  _ unknown _ juice with a label in Mandarin (but the picture has a smiley face, which made it better, perhaps?). Marcus Pike stood beside you, his hair damp with sweat, his US Consulate rugby team shirt stuck to his chest with perspiration, deep breaths drawing your attention to his broad chest. 

“Nothing really. Netflix and chill - alone.”

Marcus selects the juice with the happy face.

“What is that?” you ask.

“Hell if I know. It’s nice, though.”

You choose the fruit - better safe than sorry - and join him in the queue. The Western grocery store a block away has most things you recognise from home, along with a few random items like the happy face juice, to keep you on your toes. You also once brought a packet of “fish strips” home - never again. Your mouth had never felt so dry, but also so sour.

“You wanna hang out?” Marcus asks, one hand holding his juice, the other propped on his hip in his habitual “thinking” stance. You’ve seen it many times. Every time it makes you think about putting your own hand there. And other places on his body.

Marcus is the  _ nicest _ guy you’ve ever known. Friendly, polite, fair to a fault. You’ve been friends for a year and you learned that he accepted this Consulate posting after a bad break-up. Who had jilted him, you didn’t know, but you’d like to punch her in the face for turning down someone like Marcus Pike - a pure ray of sunshine wrapped up in an earnest smile, a big heart, and all that tanned, golden skin.

“Sure,” you say as the line moves forward. Ahead of you, a bead of sweat runs down the back of Marcus’s neck and into the collar of his rugby shirt. He smells of his habitual vanilla and black pepper cologne and you inhale greedily.

“Oh, do you have a cold?” he asks.

_ Shit. _ “No… allergies.”

He narrows his eyes for a second. “Okay. So, a movie, maybe? I might see what Zach’s doing if that’s all right?”

Zach Wellison, an active duty Marine on the Consulate Rugby team. Why no one had ever thought of pitching the idea of a US Consulate Rugby team nude calendar, you had no clue. Golden-skinned like Marcus, with similar bottomless brown eyes, Zach was scruffier, a more sarcastic and prickly version of Marcus. You’d hung out a few times, usually with Marcus too, and he’s made you laugh until your sides hurt when he pokes holes in your favourite trashy TV shows. You reckon he secretly loves them too, especially  _ The Great British Bake Off. _

“‘Course. The more the merrier. I’ll ask some friends over, too?”

Marcus nods. “Seven? I’ll bring the pizza?”

“It’s a date,” you say automatically, then turn away to hide the ridiculous blush that creeps up your neck. Marcus is busy paying for his juice and doesn’t notice. He waves to you as he leaves the store and you take your turn at the counter.

The clerk grins at you. “He’s something, huh.”

“Sure is,” you agree, biting back the sadness that he isn’t  _ your _ something, and he probably never will be. Yeah, he’s really nice to you, but nice is Marcus’ default setting. It means nothing.

You take your juice and go home to panic-clean before your visitors come over later.

**********

You invite two of your girlfriends over from the Consulate admin and statistics team, but they’ve got other plans, so you’re alone when you open the door to Marcus and Zach. Marcus holds three giant pizza boxes and Zach carts a crate of beer.

Your brows wing up. “I did tell you that it was just me…”

“Never too much pizza, though?” Marcus smiles, bending to kiss your cheek. He’s freshly showered, his hair curling damply, his cheeks smooth, and he wears a plain grey t-shirt over jeans that hug his ass  _ beautifully. _

“Or too much beer,” Zach chimes in, setting the mini crate on your coffee table. Marcus moves to do the same with the pizza and Zach bends to buss your cheek, his facial scruff tickling, his hair flopping into his eyes. He wears a plaid shirt, yellow and grey, over a navy t-shirt, and his jeans are looser than Marcus’.

“So, what are we watching?” you ask, flopping down on your sofa. All the Consulate apartments are identikit here but you’ve tried to make personal touches to yours, so it feels like home for the duration of your posting.

Perfectly at home in your place, Marcus scoops up the remote and scrolls to Netflix. “Hmmmm…. There is a game on though,” he says, and you see Zach perk up.

“If you want to watch  _ sports, _ ” you say as if Marcus had suggested watching cannibals discuss how to cook babies, “You can take your portion of pizza and leave.”

The men exchange a look and Zach shrugs. “Movie, then?” He settles down on the sofa next to you as Marcus scrolls.

“All right. It looks as if our choices are smash and grab heist movie, no-plot, no-problem action film, borderline porn, or subtitled arthouse flick.”

“Action,” you and Zach said at the same time, as Zach reached for a slice of pizza. Your sofa was not big, and his thigh rested next to yours. Your thin dress meant you could feel the heat coming off his body.

“No arthouse? Marcus asks, fixing those big brown eyes on you.

You open the second pizza box to reveal a bbq meat feast - your favourite. “Impossible to eat pizza and read subtitles at the same time, Pike.”

“She has a point,” Zach agrees, speaking through a mouthful of stuffed crust.

“All right, all right.” Marcus throws up a hand in defeat and selects something called  _ Crocodile Dundee 3: Croc Harder, _ which shows Dwayne Johnson riding the back of a giant crocodile on top of a volcano. “I  _ tried  _ to lift our average intelligence, just remember that later.”

Zach gestures at the coffee table littered with pizza and beer. “Um… read the room?”

You laugh, chewing your slice of pizza, the bbq sauce tangy on your tongue. Zach cracks open a beer as Marcus drops down on the sofa on the other side of you, and now you’re sandwiched by two  _ insanely _ good looking guys, one of whom you’ve been attracted to for well over a year now.

Marcus makes a  _ mmm _ noise as he opens the third box of pizza, double pepperoni, and you watch his hands, wide palms, long fingers, as he peels off a slice.

On screen, Dwayne’s forgettably-named character checks the cartridge of a machine gun.

“He’d shoot himself in the face doing that,” Zach says after a swig of beer.

“For sure,” Marcus agrees. “Unsafe.”

You roll your eyes. 

Marcus notices and elbows you. “ _ You _ both picked the action flick,” he mutters, but his tone is teasing and a smile ghosts around his lips.

The film continues with some explosions early on and a token geeky scientist character with a clipboard. You huff. “We  _ do not _ carry clipboards everywhere.”

“Uh huh,” Zach and Marcus say in sync.

You sigh and eat more pizza.

An hour later, three quarters of all the pizza Marcus brought over is gone. You’re three beers in, feeling pretty happy and relaxed. At some point you leaned back against Zach and now your feet are in Marcus’ lap.

Zach groans. “Why the  _ fuck _ didn’t he just ride the giant crocodile over the lava in the first place?” He sits up, adjusting you so you don’t topple backwards. “Be right back; bathroom break.”

You pause the film. Marcus smiles over at you. “You’re sweet to pause it like there’s an actual plot that he’ll miss a key point of.”

You snort, returning his smile. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there. Thanks for this. I was planning on spending the evening alone, but this is much nicer.” You go to pull your feet from his lap, but he wraps a hand around your ankle, squeezing gently. 

“Are you okay?”

You hesitate. You’ve dallied for a year about telling Marcus you think you love him, that your hand all too often hovers over his email address in your address book when you’re in work, that far too frequently, your mind wanders to him when you slide your fingers into your underwear at night. Now is hardly the time, with Zach using your bathroom just a door away.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” he drawls.

“Really.”

Marcus turns more fully to face you. “Sweetheart. Give me some credit. I’m divorced but it isn’t because I was one of those guys who accepted the  _ I’m fine _ answer at face value.”

You sigh and this time you do draw your legs off his lap. “I think I’m drunk. I need some water.” You stand up and cross to the kitchenette, and Marcus follows you on socked feet. The water runs and you feel a bit woozy, stumbling when you reach up to get a glass.

He steadies you with a hand on your back as you retrieve the glass; fill it with bottled water, and return the bottle to the fridge under the counter. The silence in your apartment is suddenly deafening as you sip the water, then hold the glass to Marcus’ lips.

He sips, his gaze on yours, then takes the glass from you, setting it down.

“Should I not have invited Zach?” he whispers, bending slightly. He’s so close that you can see the amber edging the gorgeous chocolate brown of his irises. He smells of vanilla and black pepper, heady, sweet, intoxicating. 

“Marcus…”

His mouth brushes yours, butterfly-wings soft, and he tastes of pepperoni and just an edge of citrusy beer, and you open for him, sliding your hands up his chest, firm beneath his soft-worn t-shirt. He licks into your mouth, and you sigh, almost three hundred and sixty five days worth of  _ want _ unfurling inside you, a surge of lust rising up your body like a tidal wave.

“So, I - oh, man. Sorry.”

You and Marcus jerk apart at the sight of Zach standing in the doorway. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking sheepish. 

“I…. didn’t know you were together.”

“We weren’t,” Marcus says, aiming a hopeful smile at you.

“I….. shall we finish the film?”

The boys nod and you all troop back to the sofa. You glance at the leftover pizza and shut the box.

Marcus takes the right side of you this time, tugging you into him so you sit with your back to his shoulder. You fidget with your legs until Zach chuckles and sets his feet in your lap, and it’s very comfy. On screen, Dwayne fights a half-crocodile half-lava monster with a tree he tore from the ground. 

The beer you drank has begun to make you feel warm; languid. You want to kiss Marcus again. 

You feel Marcus shift beside you. His breath fans the back of your neck for a moment, making the little hairs there stand on end. You shiver a little, pressing your feet unintentionally into Zach’s lap. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Marcus starts pressing little kisses to the nape of your neck. Your stomach clenches at the feeling. You’d never dared to dream about being in this situation with gorgeous, kind, smart, funny  _ Marcus Pike, _ and now you were - and another guy had come along for the ride.

When Marcus uses his teeth just a little, you curl your toes, involuntarily, and then stop breathing when you hear a little groan from Zach. You glance over and he’s watching Marcus nibbling on your neck, and you realise that the...topography of where you have your feet has changed.

“Oh, Zach-” you make to withdraw your feet, but Zach simply rubs circles on your bare ankles with his thumbs.

“You’re good,” he murmurs, and you think:  _ oh. _

On screen, Dwayne is hefting a bikini-clad woman in one hand and a crocodile in the other, yelling for confused passersby to get out of the way, but your attention is split between Zach’s gun-callused hands on your ankles and Marcus’ mouth on your neck. Zach has a little spiral tattoo on his left hand and you gaze at it as his hands massage you. How have you never noticed what great hands he has?

“Is this.. Okay?” Marcus whispers against your skin.

You don’t know what to say, but you only know that if either of them  _ stop _ then it will be very bad, so you nod, wordlessly.

Marcus changes position so he’s caging you, your back to his front. He has easier access to your neck this way, and when his hands wrap around your waist you sigh and relax into him, sliding your hands over his, tangling your fingers. His palms are so warm through your dress and you sigh his name. 

Zach’s hand slides up your bare leg, and you sneak a glance at his face. He’s looking down at your feet in his lap. His jeans are very obviously moulded around an erection, but he looks blissed out, sort of surprised.

You think all three of you are sort of surprised by the turn of events, but there’s been plenty of beer and you’re pleasantly full, and you’ve never been this close to two guys this  _ freaking hot. _

Experimentally you stroke your toes over Zach’s lap and a low groan escapes his lips. He lets his head fall back, eyes drifting closed.

Marcus reaches out a hand and mutes the tv, then returns to cuddling you. His breaths stroke over your skin as one hand sweeps up your ribs to cup your breast. Only your dress and a flimsy lace bra separate his hand from your skin and your heart beats a ragged tattoo of want and need.

Breathing your name, Marcus’ busy fingers begin slipping the buttons of your sundress through their eyelets, one at a time, agonisingly slowly. His chin rests on your shoulder as he works diligently, knuckles brushing each inch of newly exposed skin.

“Dreamed of this,” he whispers into your neck.

Your heart skips a beat. “Really?”

“Most nights for the last six months, actually,” he murmurs, and you can hear the chagrin in his voice, the tiny chink of missing armour there.

“He’s not lying,” Zach mutters. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

You scoff, but your reply is cut off when Marcus flicks open the front clasp of your bra and his hand covers your naked flesh. His skin is just a little rough, his touch warm and tender, and you let your eyes close, surrendering to the bliss. 

Distantly you hear the sound of a zipper being lowered but you don’t open your eyes, caught in a soft, welcoming web of touch and warmth and syrupy desire. 

Marcus rubs his thumb across your nipple, over and over, and the little tingles shoot straight down to your core. At your back, he shifts, and you moan at the press of him, hot and heavy, against your butt. “Marcus.”

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he rasps in that deliciously husky-edged baritone.

“More,” you plead, and you lean forward so he can drop the parted material of the dress down your shoulders. As the fabric slides down your arms, you look over at Zach. His head rests back on the top of the sofa, eyes half closed as he watches you and Marcus, the position revealing the scruff hugging his jaw and the long line of his neck. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. With one hand he rubs those maddeningly soft circles on your ankle. His other hand rests in the open vee of the fly of his jeans, and you drink in the sight of his cock peeking out.

He sees you watching and smiles, a little shyly. You know he was a marine but the sight of this slight bashfulness endears you to him. Makes the thought of touching him add to the fire in your belly.

Zach’s gaze flicks to you, a question in his honey-bourbon eyes. This is the moment, you think, where you could send him away and turn into Marcus’ arms, lose yourself in him alone.

Or.  _ Or. _

“What do you want?” Zach asks huskily. 

Marcus looks up from where he’s kissing the curve where your neck and shoulder meet. “You’re calling the shots here, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, but Marcus’s hands and mouth feel  _ so good _ on you and you really don’t want to stop looking at Zach almost-stroking himself.

“Stay,” you breathe. “Both of you.”

Maybe it’s the beer talking - well, let’s honest,  _ some _ of it is certainly fuelled by the beer, but you want this. You’d trust Marcus with your life, and from what you know of Zach, he might’ve been in one of the most elite military units but he’d never use his strength or skills against you.

Marcus  _ hmmmmms _ contentedly in his throat and resumes his gentle kisses along your skin, his lips soft and warm as his hands work your breasts. Your dress is pooled around your waist and you watch through half-lidded eyes as Zach uses one hand to caress your leg and the other to touch himself.

“I want...” you hear yourself say haltingly, “I want to touch one of you.” You’re suspended in the middle here, you can’t quite reach Zach, and Marcus is behind you.

Marcus lifts his head and you see him and Zach exchange some sort of silent message. Zach gently lifts your feet off his lap and spreads your legs so he can crawl between them, and you watch his handsome, tanned face as he arranges the three of you so his and Marcus’ legs have somewhere to go - they’re both  _ so  _ long-legged - and then he cups your face in one hand and kisses you, hot and urgent and impatient, so different from Marcus’ sweet gentleness, but a change of pace that has you moaning for more. You lick into Zach’s mouth and, bolder, slide a hand down his body to where he’s peeking out from his jeans.

You feel Marcus’ gaze on you both as you palm Zach. He’s warm and smooth and the weight of him in your hands makes your internal muscles clench. He bites off a stifled moan of pleasure against your lips as you stroke him, pushing the waist of his jeans down so you can reach every bit of him. Feeling him pulse in your fingers sends a spear of wetness into your core. You murmur his name and he bucks into your hands.

Marcus makes a sound of strangled desire behind you and you feel his hand work its way down your body, under your parted dress and into your underwear. At the first touch of his fingers on your damp flesh, a rush of pleasure dizzies you.

You give yourself in to Zach’s kiss as Marcus finds a rhythm that makes you buck your hips into his fingers. Your body is aflame with sensation and you feel Marcus smile against your neck as he shifts positions, keeping his thumb on your clit and easing one, then two, fingers inside you.The noises his movements make are obscene, loud in the otherwise quiet room with the TV muted. 

Zach breaks the kiss for a moment to shove his jeans, underwear and socks off, and you reach out to push his plaid shirt off his shoulders and tug his t-shirt over his head. His hair is mussed and his eyes are soft, and he looks up at Marcus and says “lie down.”

It takes a moment for you all to shift, but your sofa manages to accommodate it. You lie back on Marcus, your back on his chest, and Zach settles down to cage you in, dipping his head to give your breasts some attention. His facial scruff tickles, adding layers of sensation. Between Marcus’ hand down your knickers and Zach’s mouth on you, you’re drowning, and you never want to come up for air. You squirm under the delicious attention. Marcus scrapes his teeth along a sensitive place on your neck just as Zach gently bites down on one nipple, and Marcus’ fingers curl up inside you and it’s a tidal wave of bliss, and you come with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

As you come down from the high, your inner muscles trembling, you turn to kiss Marcus’ mouth, drinking in his taste. His lips are soft and sweet and he strokes you down from your orgasm until you stay his hand, quivering from over-sensitivity. 

“Not that we’re not both well accustomed to difficult terrain,” Zach murmurs against your skin, “but do you think we could move this party to the bed?”

“No pressure,” Marcus adds, and you know that if you say no  _ right now, _ they’ll leave and there’ll be no hard feelings, because they’re good men.

“Bed,” you decide, and Zach grins and scoops you up in his arms. 

Marcus leads the way to your bedroom - he’s never been there before, but your apartment is a mirror of his - and you’re glad you took five minutes to turn the covers down, neaten it a little.

The only light comes from the gaps between the window blinds. The evening sunlight, still golden in the summer months, streams in, painting Zach’s naked body in dusky amber. He and Marcus undress you together, Marcus sliding your bra off and Zach kneeling to gather your dress and underwear, tossing them aside before both men glance at each other and again, in secret-military-bro-code agreement, carry you to the bed, Zach holding your legs, Marcus’ hands under your arms.

When they set you down, you tug Marcus in for another kiss, licking into his mouth, carding your fingers through his short, thick hair. “Too many clothes on you, Pike,” you murmur against his lips, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. He chuckles and obliges you. On the other side of you, on the big bed, Zach seems content to lie on his side, head propped up on his elbow, lazily stroking himself.

You roll to sit up and start unbuckling Marcus’ belt, eager to see more of his smooth, golden skin. He pulls you in for another meltingly tender kiss as you ease the leather through the belt loops of his jeans, shove the denim down his thighs. He isn’t wearing boxers and you break the kiss to grin up at him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a commando guy, Marcus.”

“No? Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he teases.

“Don’t ask him about his band,” Zach deadpans from behind you.

Marcus rolls his eyes and bends to take off his pooled jeans and socks. You cup his chin when he finishes, push him back to standing. “Oh, don’t worry,” you say to Zach while holding Marcus’ steady brown gaze, “I have much better things to do with my mouth.”

And you settle one hand on Marcus’ hip and savour the little hiss of pleasure you draw from him when you take him into your mouth.

He immediately covers your hand with his, tangling your fingers. Marcus loves holding hands, you’re learning. You use your other hand to hold the thick base of him, tightening your grip and he moves his hips just a little, almost helplessly, and the unspoken power you now wield over him makes your heart bump and your cunt wetter.

Zach makes a noise behind you and a moment later you feel him settle at your back, and his hands are where Marcus’ were just minutes ago, exploring you, learning what makes your muscles clench, what makes you moan around Marcus’ cock.

“Just like that, baby,” Zach murmurs, brushing his facial scruff over your neck, and you shiver, your teeth scraping on Marcus a little, and he groans your name, exercising extreme restraint in not fucking your face.

You wiggle forward as Zack slips a finger inside you, your tongue lapping at Marcus and learning his flavour and texture. Zack is hard and ready against the small of your back, but he finger-fucks you unhurriedly, seeming to delight in your sighs and breathy gasps.

"Oh, fuck…." Marcus breathes out, jerking on your tongue, and you tighten your fist, tongue flat on the underside of the swollen head of him, using your hand to stroke him almost roughly.

Marcus growls your name, a warning, but you squeeze his fingers, telling him it's okay.

As he covers your tongue, Zach presses down hard on your clit and you see stars, your body a livewire between the two men.

You lick Marcus through the tremors of his orgasm and he cups your chin as he pulls out, bending to search your gaze, checking you’re okay. His own face is relaxed; blissed out, his soulful brown eyes dark and soft. 

He kisses you tenderly on the lips, and you think you could drown in him; his considerate kindness, his easy friendliness, his sheer  _ beauty _ , inside and out. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your lips, and if you have anything to say about it, tonight will  _ not _ be the last time you see him naked.

Zach nips at your earlobe and you turn to him. “Poor baby. We’ve been neglecting you.” You glance back at Marcus. “Haven’t we?”

“He’s been a trooper,” Marcus agrees. 

You capture Zach’s mouth in a kiss, and he eagerly licks into your mouth. You taste of Marcus, but he seems to like it. When your lips part, you ask, “what do you want?”

“I want to be inside you,” he says simply, his face earnest and open, and he looks at Marcus halfway through the sentence. Warmth curls around your heart at the way Zach  _ knows _ you and Marcus have a thing; he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. 

You look between the two hottest guys you’ve ever been with and smile. “Marcus and I will have plenty of time. Right?”

“Right,” Marcus agrees happily, that blissed out look still stamped on his handsome face. He drops into the chair next to your bed. 

You turn in Zach’s embrace and he cuddles you close, kissing you deeply, his scruff tickling. He tucks you into his body and then rolls you across the bed. You land on your back and he cages you in, sliding between your legs, and you open eagerly. His body is lean, toned, and you smooth your palms over his broad back greedily, touching all that warm, tanned skin. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Condom?” Marcus asks from the chair. He’s laying back, legs spread lazily, the amber evening light from the window kissing his physique, comfortable in his nakedness, and your gaze eats him up, knowing he’ll be yours for many nights after this. He reaches down into his jeans pocket, fishes out a little foil square and tosses it to Zach.

“Thanks, man.”

You nip it from Zach’s hand, push him on to his back. He arches his back as you roll the condom on slowly, enjoying the muscle ticking in his jaw.

Marcus’ gaze is dark and hot as you catch his eye from across the room, swinging a leg over Zach and slowly sheathing him. You both groan when he finally bottoms out, and he settles his hands on your hips.

“Beautiful, honey,” he mutters in that voice made for sin, and you brace your hands on his chest and set a lazy pace. Zach brings his legs up at the knees, changing the angle, hitting an absolutely  _ fantastic _ spot inside you, and you move faster, chasing another high like the two he and Marcus have given you. You hold Zach’s dark amber gaze, watch him bite his lip as he bucks up into you, close to orgasm.

His left hand comes to play where your bodies are joined, and you watch the little tattoo on his skin flex as he touches you, pushing you over that sweet cliff edge. Your muscles flutter around him and his eyes close as he comes hard, your name falling from his lips like a prayer, or a supplication to whatever God is listening. You ride him through it, until his hips stutter and he holds you still, panting.

You check up on Marcus. He’s watching lazily, his brown eyes drinking you in, and you crook your finger in invitation. As he crosses the room, you roll off Zach. He drops a kiss on your lips and heads for the bathroom.

Marcus drops on to the bed and opens his arms. You snuggle in, breathing in his scent; black pepper and vanilla, and it’s heady. The room smells of sex, and you and him and Zach, and your body is relaxed and soft.

“That was… unexpected,” Marcus murmurs into your hair.

You snort. “Yeah. I guess we  _ all  _ had Netflix and chill, huh.”

Marcus coughs out a laugh.

Zach appears in the doorway, holding the clothes he retrieved from the sofa. “I think I’ll make a move. I had fun.” He looks happy, tired, the edges of his eyes crinkling, his hair mussed. “See you at work, Pike.”

You sit up and smile at him. You doubt you’ll ever kiss him again, but you’ll remember tonight as long as you live. “Take care, Zach. See you around.” You blow him a kiss; he catches it with a soft laugh.

You hear shuffling and then he calls out, “I’m taking one of the pizzas!” before your door bangs shut, and you and Marcus are alone.

You snuggle in tight. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Marcus drawls, and  _ oh, _ you could listen to his voice forever, that husky-edge baritone that has lived in your dreams for so long.

You smile against his skin; feel his heart beating under your ear. “I was thinking that…. This wasn’t how I’d planned to tell you that I really like you.”

“Oh you really like me, do you? I had an inkling around the time you started going down on me,” Marcus deadpans.

You laugh, mock-punch him. “Shut up, Pike.”

“Seriously though. That was hot as  _ hell. _ Thank you,” he says softly, tilting your chin up for a kiss. 

“Will you stay?” you gaze into his soulful, bottomless chocolate brown eyes.

“I’d love that. Plus, we still have to find out what happened in that movie, right? And we’ve got leftover pizza. Can’t leave it.”

You sigh happily. Marcus is stroking your hair and you’re wrapped around him; you don’t want to move for anything. “In a little while. I’m so happy you asked if I wanted to hang out. For future reference; the answer is always yes.”

He cuddles you closer, if that’s possible. “I like to think I’d have made a move. Soon. It’s just….” He trails off, and you can hear the edge of hurt in his tone, the hint of uncertainty. Coming from a man like Marcus, who is everything right and good in the world, it is impossibly sad.

“I know,” you soothe. His bad break-up, when a fellow agent accepted his marriage proposal and then left him for another man, and before that, his divorce. “You’re worth waiting for, Marcus. You’re everything, and I intend to show you that as often as you’ll let me. For the record, I  _ cannot _ understand why Teresa left you like that, but I should be shaking her hand. If not for her, I wouldn’t be here. And I am  _ very, very _ happy right now.”

“Sweetheart,” Marcus sighs. He shuffles over, pulls the covers over you both, closes his eyes. 

“By the way….” you start.

“Hmmm?” His voice is slurred with the edge of slumber.

“What  _ was _ your band called?”

But your only reply is a soft snore. You chuckled. Marcus is warm and solid and  _ yours, _ and everything in you settles, content.

And you both sleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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